Perfection Incarnate
by KatyLamphere
Summary: Rose and the Doctor meet again, finally, but there are serious changes in both of them. Will it ever be the same?


She stood absolutely still on the beach. She didn't want to miss anything, not one thing. The waves beat the shore from fifty feet away. The wind chapped her cheeks as it whipped by her from the sea; the salt it carried caked the girl's blonde hair, her eyelashes and eyebrows, left a chalky residue on her full lips. But she didn't move and inch. Not to cover her face, wipe the hair out of her eyes or the salt from her lips. Nothing was going to interrupt this moment. Not anything.

For at last, he was coming for her. At long last. It had been six years since Canary Wharf, six long years since she had seen the ghost of him on this very beach. 72 months, three weeks, two days, fifteen hours, and six minutes. She remembered every second of it, like a parent remembers every second of their beloved child's heart transplant surgery. She remembered the pain, the loss, the utter hopelessness she felt without him. Without the Doctor. Without _her_ Doctor.

For that's what he was, _her_ Doctor. The man who had saved her from shop dummies. But he had saved her from more than that, she thought now, he had saved her from monotony. He pulled her out of her dead-end life when he had taken her hand in the shop basement that night.

Rose had gotten the message while she was working in Cardiff, at Torchwood. She still laughed at that: she worked at Torchwood, the one place that seemingly worked against everything the Doctor worked towards. At least, it had in the other universe. Not in Pete's World, though. Not while she had a say in it. She worked to make it everything that the Doctor had stood for: tolerance, acceptance, non-violent approaches to alien life on Earth. She liked to think he would be proud.

They had been working on the dimension cannon, trying to tweak it so it would work even though the walls of the universes had been rebuilt. Well, when she said _they_, she really meant she and the computer. Everyone else had given up long ago, when the work had become too tedious and the ships had appeared on the horizon: alien ships. Everyone had all their energy focused on integrating this new alien species into life on Earth, but Rose… Not Rose. Rose was insistent upon the cannon, determined to make it work again. She had seen him for all of three hours the last time it worked, when the walls of time were broken down. _Three hours_ and she was thrust back into this universe. She hadn't even gotten to say goodbye. She had told him, warned him about the stars going out, the crumbling timelines, and the convergence they could see upon Donna Noble. But something had gone wrong and the cannon backfired, sending her back into Pete's World. When it backfired, it had somehow been disabled; the entire staff of Torchwood couldn't get it to work again. Rose was stuck. Again.

Rose was forced to watch as the universe was saved by her Doctor. Forced to watch as the gap in the dimension wall closed up. She had to watch and do nothing. There wasn't anything she could do. Nothing at all.

After that incident, Rose became reserved. She shut herself up in her rooms for weeks, not talking, eating very little. Her mother and Pete were distraught; they tried everything to cheer her up. Not even Jackie's tea could bring Rose out of her slums. After the third month, however, they gave up. They let her be. They have given up hope for their daughter. She had lost the Doctor not once, but twice. Jackie thought that it would make it easier for Rose to lose him again, having experienced it once before.

But that was wrong. The second time Rose had lost him was tenfold more painful than the first time. For this time, she had no hope of ever seeing him again. For there wasn't any hope; not without a working dimension cannon, not without a team who was as determined as she was, not without Mickey, who had gotten stuck on the other side of the wall. She was stuck, and she knew it; which made it all the more terrible for her to be there.

Five months had gone by. Five long and stagnant months. Rose had cried herself out. There weren't any tears left, no sadness, no happiness, no anger. Nothing. But this made it easier for Rose. She didn't need emotion, that only muddled things up. Rose was a new woman: a woman with nothing to live for. She was content being such a shell. For that's what she had become: a shell. There was no trace of humanity left in her. And it was for the best, she thought. She could survive being this way.

So Rose continued. She ate meals with her family every day. She went back to Cardiff and Torchwood. She worked until there was no work, and then she waited for more. She talked about business and politics, religion and pop culture. She survived, however little there was left to survive. It killed Jackie a bit every day to see Rose living as such a… a robot. She went through the motions of humanity, but there was none left. Rose was no more.

oOOo

Until that Monday in early March. Rose was working on paperwork for Torchwood, something she did every Monday. She had eaten breakfast with Jackie, Pete, and Tony, her little brother. She had left for work promptly at 8:30, arriving similarly promptly at 8:37. She took a quick walk down to the café and grabbed her morning coffee, something Jackie disapproved of. She clocked in at exactly 9:00. She got halfway through the morning with no incident.

But at 11:34 there was a strange hum coming from Rose's desk drawer. She frowned a bit in confusion, and opened the drawer slowly and suspiciously. There, in the center of the drawer, in a cedar box she had made specifically to hold one thing, that's where the hum was coming from.

Her brow only furrowed deeper. But… _How?_ she thought. _How was this happening?_ The thing inside that box cannot possibly be humming, cannot possibly be active. It hasn't been active in a very long time…

Rose slammed the drawer shut; slid her chair back from the desk and paced the office, back and forth, back and forth. All the while, the thing in the desk drawer humming along. It seemed to her that the hum was getting stronger, more insistent every time she turned her back on the desk to pace toward the door.

_Impossible._ Absolutely _impossible. He's in another universe, the key (for that's what it was, a TARDIS key) cannot do that unless he's near…_

A thought hit her like a sack of bricks and she ran to the desk and ripped the key out of the box, letting the wood fall to the floor in her hurry. The key was warm. The key only warmed when the TARDIS was near. Or when the TARDIS was sending a message.

_THAT'S IT!_ Rose screamed in her head.

She tore from the room, down the hall, three lefts, two rights, third door on the left, up the stairwell two floors, left, right, left, left, and THERE!

She burst into Pete's office, scaring the life out of him. She slammed the door and thrust the key into the space between the two of them, not saying a word. Her eyes were wide and feral and she was out of breath.

"Rose, what…?" But Pete looked from her face to what she was holding her hand: the TARDIS key, humming like a phone on vibrate, glowing slightly in her hand. She was gripping the key so tight her fingers were white. Neither of them moved.

"He's sending a message, that must be it, he can't be here, we've tried everything, but there's a message waiting, somehow, I don't know how, but it has to be, it's not just me, do you see it, can you see it too?" Rose rambled and shifted from one foot to the other, speaking to Pete, but her eyes never left the key.

"Yes, Rose, I see it too," Pete said in awe. They stood there for a few moments, collectively in astonishment.

"What do we do?" He said to her, knowing the answer already. He reached for the phone on his desk and dialed the extension for the tech team. "Bring the paper, I need it."

When he slid the phone back into its cradle, he and Rose just looked at her outstretched hand, Rose still wild and out of breath. Pete looked from the key to her face and back. This was the first time he had seen anything other than a blank expression on her face. She looked, well, she looked insane. He walked slowly to where she stood and put his hand out to hers, open-palmed, and she dropped the key into his hand.

It thrummed against his skin with a persistence that was so like the man it was connected to.

Pete laughed once and closed the distance between he and Rose, squeezing her until she cried out. He loosened her but didn't let go and they were both jumping up and down.

A knock at the door signaled the package had arrived, and he let her go to see to it. When he returned with the leather wallet, he looked up at her in excitement. Rose had tears streaming down her face, a grin as wide as her ears spread across her mouth. Pete's own eyes gained tears from seeing her look… normal. It had been so long! Rose did not look at him, though. She was staring hungrily at the wallet and at the key, both in Pete's hands.

Pete slowly opened the wallet, to reveal a blank piece of paper. Psychic paper. It did not remain blank for long, however:

_Rose, this has to be short so I'll be quick. I found a hole in the barrier; a hole big enough for the TARDIS and small enough for little effect to be cast on the integrity of the entire barrier. Ironically enough, the outlet is in Norway, Dalig-Ulv-Stranden. You remember the place, I'm sure. Come as soon as you can and I'll be there, Rose. I'm coming to get you. As soon as you can, Rose! Allons-y!_

They watched wordlessly as the words faded slowly, and reappeared as the signal was renewed and the message was cast against the paper again. Neither of them moved. Pete's tears had dried up, but when he finally moved to look to where Rose was watching the paper, they spilled freely.

Rose, his daughter, had come back. She watched the words cycle twice more before she moved. Tears had not stopped pouring from her eyes, but she never blinked them away, afraid she'd miss a change in the message. The words had faded for the third time when she finally let out her breath, breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She looked up at Pete and the smile that had receded when she was concentrating returned. She grinned like herself again. She breathed in, and let out a laugh. He laughed with her, till there was nothing coming from their mouths but squeaks.

_He's coming back for me!_ Rose thought over and over and over again, till the dormant hope and happiness that lay in the recesses of her soul had sparked and burst into their full flames once again. She jumped and laughed and cried, till she couldn't any longer then she just held the leather wallet and key to her chest. She knelt on the floor, all of her energy spent.

Pete knelt down with her when she had calmed, and clutched her to him, so relieved to have her home and with him. The ice that had become her soul had shattered with such a force that he had not thought possible. Rose was back.

They stayed like that on the floor for a long time, too long, Pete thought, she needs to be packing.

When he voiced such a thought, she laughed and fled his office, tearing down the halls and stairs and out to the street, where she looked to the sky and screamed with such joy and happiness, everyone on the street stopped and stared. Rose didn't feel their eyes as they watched her fly down the street and around the corner. She was far too determined to worry about how crazy she looked. She had packing to do.

When Rose had burst out of the office, Pete had caught his breath and called Jackie, laughing the entire time. He told her what had happened, and when Rose exploded into the foyer of their house, Jackie was still on the phone with Pete, tears streaming down her own face when she hung up on her husband and ran to Rose.

Rose laughed with Jackie for a bit, but she was too intent on hurrying, and she broke the embrace far sooner than Jackie would have liked. Running up the stairs to her rooms, Rose kissed Tony on the head as she passed by him playing in the hall. Oblivious as a six year old can be, he continued playing with his trucks.

Jackie streaked down the hall after Rose, insistent upon helping her pack, asking her exactly what it said, questions and questions and questions, until Rose sat her down on a chaise and handed her the key and paper. Rose let her read while she threw everything important into a duffel bag, not caring to fold or organize. Rose was in the bathroom, throwing toiletries into a travel case when Jackie came in, crying and laughing, handing her the key and paper.

"I'll have the zeppelin ready for you by tonight, love. We'll get you there by tomorrow morning." Jackie looked at Rose like she had every time she'd come home from an especially long adventure: with longing and happiness and a hint of sadness, for she knew that Rose would not be with her much longer, could not be with her. Her daughter belonged with that daft alien in that daft ship, off on some daft adventure. Watching Rose die day by day without the Doctor made Jackie realize this, and semi come to terms with it. Seeing Rose as she was now, all smiles, and determination pushed Jackie to complete terms with her daughters' choice. She wasn't Rose unless she had the Doctor. He was the reason for the light inside of her.

Jackie stayed Rose's hands, holding them to her chest. With one hand she cupped Rose's face, wiping her hair from her forehead, sweaty from running all the way home.

"We'll get you there, love," and with that Jackie clutched Rose to her and they cried.

oOOo

Three hours later, Rose was sitting in Pete's private zeppelin, flying over the ocean on her way to Norway. On her way to him.

She let a smile creep over her face, spreading ear to ear. She hadn't stopped hating herself for giving up, hadn't stopped chastising herself all afternoon. Six long years since she had been taken to this world. Eight long months since those glorious three hours. Too much time had passed, too long had she been without him.

She ran over the coming scenario in her head a thousand times. She tried relaxing, to no avail. Three more ours she'd have to wait till she was in Norway, another five till she'd be on Bad Wolf Bay. She laughed wryly. Bad Wolf Bay. She was the Bad Wolf. She created life, created herself, created everything. She had had the entire time and dimension vortex running through her veins. She had decimated an entire fleet of Daleks alone. She had looked into the TARDIS, into the heart of the ship, and had taken all of time and space into herself in order to save the Doctor and the universe. She was a savior of worlds. _How in God's name had she let herself forget it?_

It was different in Pete's world: she could remember the twist and pull, ebb and flow of the Vortex in her soul. She could feel it even now, she felt it stir inside of her mind. The Doctor may not know she remembers, may think he saved her from the terror and destruction of such a force of nature; of _the_ force of nature, but in this universe, she could remember every burning second. She thinks that this is the only way she remained sane in the years and months without him: she still sort of had him.

For this she scolded herself more than anything: she had him, part of him running through her veins even after all this time, and she just let it fall to the back of her mind, putting all of her grief and self-centeredness in the forefront. If she could beat herself senseless, she would. But she didn't have the time, she kept reminding herself.

She squirmed in her seat. For the thousandth time since they took off, a mere two hours ago, she took the key and wallet from her pocket and read and reread the message displayed. She had memorized the message in Pete's office, but seeing the message before her, physical and tactile did more for her than thinking about the message. She could hear his voice saying the words, she could hear the manic glee that was ever-present.

_Allons-y!_ it said.

"That's French for 'let's go,'" he had told her once. She couldn't breathe when she thought about him, couldn't take a full breath.

_Maybe he'll finish that sentence…_ she thought. _No, I won't think about that. Can't let myself get hope like that…_

But Rose did think about it; often non-stop. She thought about how it would sound on his lips. What inflections he would use; if even would break in between words for emphasis, or if it would all come out in a rush.

Rose looked at her watch. An hour and a half till they touched down in Bergen. Ninety minutes. Five-thousand, four-hundred seconds. And counting. _God, time is always unbearable,_ she thought, _but even worse when you can feel it running through your veins like fire. This must be how to the Doctor feels it._

A tiny thrill shot up her spine at that thought.

Last minute, Pete had decided to come with her, make sure she was delivered safely. He was asleep, of course, all his energy spent for the day.

All Rose could do was squirm. Once, she got up to pace but the attendant glared at her till she sat down.

So she sat. And sat. And sat some more. Not nearly soon enough for her liking, the plane touched down and she and Pete rushed out of the airport to find a bus. Five more hours. It was already late, even later with the time change. By the time they reached the beach, it was 4:00 AM.

Pete insisted they settle into the hotel on the strand, but she had become restless in the queue for a room (_there's a queue at this hour?_) and she left to walk to the beach.

It was colder than she'd like. The wind bit into her, but she did not move. The darkness slowly faded away, the sin rising on the horizon behind her.

Still, she waited. She was surprised to go from being so restless to not wanting to move and inch for fear of missing something. She could feel her hair being caked with sea salt, sticking to the back of her neck and her forehead, but she made no move to wipe it away. She stood on the rocky beach, facing the place she knew he would punch through.

She had nightmares about this beach; it's rocks and dark sand swallowing her up in some. In others, she would just be a bystander watching her life come down around her ears as the image of the Doctor faded with one last _Rose Tyler…_

In others, in her worst, she would just be standing here. Simply standing, looking out into the ocean. She'd spend her whole life like this, in her dream, till she was nothing but a little old woman, still standing.

Much like I am now? she thought, and with that she shuddered and began pacing.

Pete saw the change from stillness to movement out of the corner of his eye from where he sat farther down the beach. His heart skipped a beat but then slowed when he saw it was just Rose. He was getting anxious, sitting here like a fool. He had already called Jackie when they arrived, spoken with his son, and said his goodnights. It was the middle of the night there, so Pete had no one to talk to. He considered going back to the hotel where he had checked them into, but wanted to be here in case Rose needed him. He didn't want to be absent if she needed him. He reminisced on a time when the closest thing he had to a child was a yappy little ankle-biter. Named Rose. He scoffed at the folly. Six years later, he had a wife who loved him, a grown-up daughter and a son, seven next month. The Doctor had swept into his life and left him with a family, and he was forever indebted to this man. Well, man being a loose-termed title for the Doctor. Jackie and he spoke often about what the Doctor meant to them. Recently, however, those discussions had been filled with misplaced hate, for this daft man had filled his daughter to the brim with purpose, and then disappeared, leaving her with nothing.

_It wasn't his fault_, Pete thinks as he looks back. He had done everything for them, for Rose especially, and hating him was wrong. Pete scolded himself, scolded Jackie. They had lost faith. _Never again_, he thought.

Pete looked up, his reverie dissolving around him like a fog. Rose still paced, back and forth, back and forth. It was bitingly cold and she looked worse for the wear, but he knew better than to interrupt her when she was like this. He had tried to get her to take his coat before, about an hour ago, but she shrugged it off, saying she liked the cold. He knew better than to try harder, for he had done that as well, about half an hour ago, and she'd done nothing but glare at him for interrupting her thoughts. Pete shrugged and went back to his spot on a particularly big rock. He had two pairs of gloves on, a heavy down jacket, flannel underwear, and sealskin boots, and still the cold was tearing into him, all the way to the bone.

Rose had a winter jacket on, but not really a _Norwegian_-winter jacket. Pete scoffed and swore he'd never say he was cold again, not while they were in England, that is. Cold there and cold here were two very different things. March was brutal here. Pete rubbed his hands together and resolved not to think, just watch Rose as she paced back and forth, to and fro.

oOOo

Rose couldn't think about anything other than the time. _Maybe I missed him_, she thought in terror. _Maybe I missed him, maybe the message had only just made it through, being from weeks, years ago even; maybe the hole in the barrier had closed up; maybe the hole in the barrier had closed up around the TARDIS…_

Rose shoved her fingers into her mouth and nervously bit her finger nails. _No, this can't be. She's here, on time, and the Doctor was coming. He'd be here. Any minute. Any second. Any millisecond._ Rose thrust her hand deep into her pocket and took out the key. It still glowed, still hummed. _See?_ she thought, _he's coming. The TARDIS will bring him to me. He'll be here. He'll be here._

She had stopped pacing and simply looked down at the key in her hand. She tried to clear her head, push every thought from her mind. Every thought except one. She thought of his face: the way his eyebrows shot up when something took him by surprise; the way his tongue always distracted her when he was speaking; the small wink he'd give her when he'd done something clever; the glint in his eyes that would come from being mischievous.

Rose was thinking so fiercely, so _viciously_ of these things that she completely blocked out everything around her. She didn't hear the call of the gulls, the crash of the waves. Nor did she hear the _vworp vworp_ of the TARDIS engines as it materialized into view down the beach a ways. Pete, however, heard it, and ran to Rose, where she stood in a daze, he touched her arm, breaking her meditation, and pointed to where the TARDIS had taken full corporeal form some fifty yards down the sea strand.

Rose's resolve crashed down around her ankles and her knees buckled under her, leaving Pete to catch her. She regained her composure only by sheer willpower and she forced her legs forward, walking at first.

The TARDIS door opened, and he stepped onto the beach, Converse sinking slightly into the dark sand. He scanned the beach, eyes finding Rose, and an enormous grin spread across his face, he took two steps toward her, but stopped, seeing she had faltered.

Rose saw him, hope spreading like fire into her limbs, and she ran. She ran like she had never run for anything, faster than she thought possible.

The Doctor saw her run, and he began as well, the two of them stopping just short of each other.

Rose looked at him, five feet away, and the Doctor looked at her. They stood there for what seemed like eternity.

"I'm here," he said breathily, watching her face turn from reserved and a little confused into something so beautiful, so radiant…

"And what kind of time is this?" She stammered, tears flowing freely now. They broke into laughter and rushed into each other's arms, holding each other so tight it was a wonder neither had broken anything.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," the Doctor whispered into her hair has he clutched her tightly to him, never wanting to let go. They sank to the ground, never letting go of each other, tears mingling with laughter, and Pete found them like this.

He had wandered over when he thought it appropriate, waiting for them to greet before he came over, excitement visible on his face.

They were a wet and sandy tangle on the ground, rolling and laughing and crying. The joy on their faces was radiant, Pete could see it from where he stood above them.

"Glad to have you back, Doctor," Pete's voice boomed from above, interrupting the helloes Rose and the Doctor were still sharing.

"You have no idea," The Doctor said, looking into Rose's eyes. "You have no idea."

oOOo

Pete finally got them up off the sea strand, back to the hotel and into their rooms, but he had been unsuccessful at prying them apart. Rose had not once let go of the Doctor, arms flung around his waist, and the Doctor and not let go of her, was not going to give her another chance to slip through his hands again.

_Not ever again,_ the Doctor thought. _Never._

Rose was beyond words, just a mess of laughter and tears, unintelligible phrases escaping her lips every once and again, but neither the Doctor nor Pete could tell what she meant. It didn't matter, not to her and not to the Doctor, for all that mattered anymore (and evermore) was that she and the Doctor were together again.

Once inside the hotel, Rose and the Doctor laid on the floor in the suite's den, just holding each other, just existing. Together. Existing together, that was the important part.

Rose had fallen asleep on the Doctor's chest, the Doctor had fallen asleep with one arm around Rose's shoulder and the other holding her hand to his chest. Pete smiled down at Rose, she looked so at peace, so… complete. That was the word. _Complete._ Rose, his daughter, was happy and with the man she needed more than air, and that was enough for him.

Pete left them on the floor, covering them up with the duvet from one of the three abutting rooms in the suite. He went into town, looking for a place to eat, and when he had filled his belly he went back to the hotel, but not to the suite. He went to the desk, bought another suite and stayed there for the night. He was not going to dampen their reunion with his presence.

oOOo

Rose woke in the middle of the night to the Doctor pushing her hair back from her face. She grinned from ear to ear, tears pricking her eyes again, and clutched at him fiercely.

"Hello," he said, and she felt the word all the way through her. She let it wash over her completely, reveling in the resonance and the vibration of it in his chest where her head lay.

"Hello," she breathed.

They didn't say anything for long minutes, just looked at each other; looked at the faces they both had pined for so long.

The Doctor cupped Rose's face with one hand, his other arm pulling her up to face level. Her breath caught in the back of her throat, her eyelashes fluttered. _God,_ he thought, _I have waited for so long…_

"Doctor" she breathed, and that was enough invitation for him. He pulled her to him, his lips finding hers easily. A chaste kiss, over too quickly. He pulled back and looked at her eyes, gauging her emotions.

"Rose, you are so beautiful. I have missed you so much, too long have we been apart, too long have I waited to finish that sentence…" His words were said in a rush, trying to keep up with his thoughts, and he had so much more to say, so much more to make clear to her — But she had other ideas.

Rose reached up and covered his hand on her face with hers; she straightened her body so she was all along the length of him.

"Later," she said huskily, kissing him. And he did not protest.

He rolled off his back, half onto her, greedily exploring her mouth with his tongue. Her breath caught again when he reached between them and unzipped her coat, painfully slow. Her own hands found the lapels of his trench coat, pushing the shoulders down and barely waited for him to yank his arms out if it before she had moved on to his suit coat.

He broke the kiss, much to her dismay, and stilled her hands with his. She whimpered beneath him and he had to stifle a groan.

"Rose, we need to stop," he said, hating himself for it.

"Why?" she whined, trying to free her hands from his.

"Pete," he said, grasping her hands a little tighter, her wriggling almost freeing them. "Pete is here, and we're on the floor, and I'm an alien, and a myriad of other reasons, but oh, god, you are so beautiful —" He kissed her, giving up on struggling against it. He let her hands go, and they continued their task of undressing him, going directly for his suit coat buttons. One by one, and they were all undone, and she pushed this layer off of him.

His hands had no purpose, other than to touch her. They were in her stiff hair, on her soft neck, shoulders, down to the slit of skin between the hem of her shirt and jeans. He groaned when he made this discovery, fingers snaking their way under the shirts, just and inch, and not enough to satisfy him.

He broke their kiss again, her whimper he tried to block from his ears.

"Rose, we can't." and with that he sat up, reaching for his suit coat.

"I know," she said, not trying to mask the disappointment in her voice. "Pete, blah blah blah…"

She stood, straightening her sweatshirt. He watched with dismay as she closed that gap between shirt and jeans. He shut his eyes, trying to clear his nose of her smell, the smell that was so Rose.

"Right," he said, standing up. He buttoned his suit coat, watching her as she picked up their coats and went to put them in the cupboard in the hall. He looked around the suite, looked at the trail of sand that led from the door to the spot on the floor of the den where they had lain. He laughed loudly at that, he slapped his hand over his mouth. Rose, at the cloak cupboard in the hall, had found a note from Pete saying he was out, and would get another room when he returned, leaving the two of them to themselves. She smiled, quickly walking to the den.

She found the Doctor with his hand over his mouth looking at the carpet, and she followed his gaze, laughing as well. They had made quite the mess.

And it only got funnier the more they looked at it, at the dark sand covering the white carpet, so clearly from their clothes.

"How did we not notice that?" Rose laughed out, pointing at the floor, at their clothing, and at the Doctor's face, as it was turning a right red shade from laughing so violently.

The Doctor shook his head in a silent answer, for he could not speak, could only breathe to laugh.

They grasped at each other, laughing only harder and harder till they were on their knees, holding one another for support. The laughing stopped, only to start again when they realized how ridiculous it was to be laughing at sand.

When they were spent of laughter, holding on to each other for dear life, gasping for breath, Rose held her hand out, where she had the note from Pete, crumpled now from her fist.

He took the note, read it, looked at Rose, and took her into his arms so violently she was startled. They kissed and kissed, taking turns on exploring one another's mouths, tongues sliding against each other, lips chafing from being forced so tightly together.

His hands were in her hair again, and all up her back, over and over, making sure not one spot had not felt his touch. He held her tightly against him, and she held him just as tightly back.

"Doctor," she breathed when he had broken their kiss to trail nips and licks down her jaw, into her neck.

He moaned with pleasure when she held him there, his face pressed into her neck, her hands tangled in his thick dark hair. His hands came down her back, finding once more the gap between shirt and pants.

"Rose, I have to say something," he pulled back slightly, not too much, but far enough to make him miss the feel of her skin on his face. "Rose, do you remember what I said on the beach that day? Do you remember the sentence I didn't finish?"

She nodded, breathless, not wanting to spoil his speech with her voice.

"What did I say?"

"You said my name. You said 'Rose Tyler…' and that was it, you were gone," tears pricked her eyes at the memory.

"That's right. Do you want to know the rest of that sentence?" she nodded. "Rose Tyler, I love you. I loved you then, I love you now. I know that I am not human, and that I am not the best man for you, but I want you to know now and forever, that I love you." Tears of his own spilled from his eyes, matching the ones that had begun pouring from hers.

"Oh Doctor, I've waited so long to hear that from you, so long to know what you were going to say… I love you, I loved you then, and if it's possible, I love you even more now. I never want to be without you, you and I are perfect for each other, and I don't care that you're not human, or that I'm not a Time Lady, I just want you, need you." With every syllable the Doctor's hearts swelled until there was no room for all the love his felt, and so it spread to his fingertips, to where he touched her.

Slowly, as not to startle her, he opened the telepathic gateways between them, showing her exactly how much he loved her, wanted her, needed her.

She gasped at the sudden onslaught of thoughts and feeling coming from him. She pushed back with her own psyche, forcing her own feelings to go where she wanted them, straight into his mind, where they belonged.

They resumed kissing, having waited too long already.

He trailed white hot kisses down her neck, to where his hands were making quick work of the buttons on her sweatshirt. Her hand tangled in his hair, pulling just enough to make moan escape his lips. He grunted with frustration when the buttons refused to do his bidding, and so she released his hair and reached down to pull the hoodie over her head, taking the blouse that was underneath with it.

And just like that, she was topless, kneeling before him.

"Unfair," she grunted, and redid her earlier work of taking off his jacket and button-down. She swatted away his hands when they tried to trail light touches down her skin, making him groan. She smiled just the slightest bit, and he leaned into her, kissing the smirk off of those full lips. She had finally gotten the button-down off of him, pulling up at the final undershirt, laughing at all the layers. When they were done, they stopped, chests rising and falling heavily with desire and exertion. He looked her up and down, memorizing every single pore on the surface of her skin. She watched him look at her, and the way his eyes darkened with need made her hair stand on end.

He saw the gooseflesh appear on her skin, beginning from her navel, that glorious little dip in the very center of her body, and spreading wantonly outward, up and up, over the peaks of her breasts, up to her neck, where he could see her blood beat its rhythm. Oh, those breasts, though. Those perfect mounds of flesh, now covered in dainty little bumps. He reached out and cupped one round breast in each hand. She let out a breathy moan, which only encouraged him more. He ran a thumb over each nipple, through the lace of her bra, and felt each stand to rapt attention. Rose reached up for him, but he batted her hands away, this was his work, and she was _not_ to interrupt. She tilted her back, sighing with desire.

He cupped her breasts, weighing them in his hands, molding them to fit the gentle curve of his palms. _They are perfect,_ he thought. _Perfection incarnate._ He teased each nipple between his thumb and forefinger, loving the way they hardened. He leaned in and breathed cool air onto her left breast, then to her right. _Enough of this_, he thought, leaning so his chest brushed hers as he reached 'round and unclasped the bra with expert hands. He let one strap fall at a time, till the whole article fell away, revealing Rose's ivory skin to his waiting, greedy eyes. He heard her breath hitch as he leaned forward and took her left nipple into his mouth, teasing it harder and harder. He left one to go to the other, allowing Rose to reach up and thrust her hands into his hair, breathing his name. When both breasts were to his liking, his nipped and kissed his way up her chest, up her neck, jaw and then finally to her lips, laughing inwardly as she kissed him fiercely, desire written into her every tongue stroke, every nip she took of his bottom lip.

"Rose, oh, Rose" he moaned airily when her hands strayed down to the hem of his pants. She left the hem, traveling lower, to wrap her hand around his hardened length, and he involuntarily pushed into her hand, hardening even more when she stroked. He hands had stilled during her advances, but he soon found himself again, pulling her toward him with his hands on her bum. It was her turn to groan when he wrote his name in Gallifreyan, circling lower and lower till three of his fingers were just under the hem of her jeans, still spelling nonsense in circles. He left her suddenly, breaking apart just enough to reach in between them and unbutton her jeans, unzip them, and yank them downwards. She had on pink and yellow striped panties, lacy and oh so tempting…

"Pink and yellow?" he asked, a mischievous grin quirking the corners of his mouth up.

"Always," Rose said, pulling his face to hers. Her fingers found his shaft again, circling and stroking, drawing the Doctor into a frenzy. He growled and broke them apart again, unbuttoning his own pants, rolling to the floor to kick them off completely, Rose doing the same to her jeans. She lay on the floor, watching him with a silent smile toying with her lips.

The Doctor, now only in his boxers, slowly lay next to Rose, the two of them touching from hip to shoulder, kissing again.

His fingers went to hip, feeling her heart speed up. Slowly, painstakingly slow, they traced the hem, back to front, his fingertips only touching her in the slightest bit. The gooseflesh returned, and to his disbelief, was even sexier when it was forming underneath his touch rather than just watching it. Her kisses became fevered and frenzied, her want and desire becoming unbearable.

"Doctor, god, Doctor please," she breathed, breaking the kisses. He nipped his way down her neck.

He hooked two fingers in the hem of her panties, pulling them down an inch and stopping. She moaned, and he pulled them down another inch. The Doctor pulled back to look into her eyes, wanting to see the need, the desire. He opened the telepathy again, and her eyes squeezed shut with pleasure. She was close, oh so close.

Keeping the gateway open so he knew what she wanted exactly, he pulled her panties down, down, down till they were off her, and her knelt next to her, just making love to her with his eyes. She was beautiful, writhing and mewling beneath him.

"Doctor," she said louder, "Doctor…"

He stopped needing to watch her, began needing to _feel_ her. His hands traced unseen patterns up her legs, following the line of her body, till he was all along her, nestled in between her legs. She reached for his member, but he stopped her, leading her hands to his neck, where she took handfuls of his hair. He groaned. She knew just what to do. Remembering to telepathy, he realized he knew just what to do , too.

One hand went to the back of her head, the other between them to the soft and wet core of her. One finger went into the hot folds, already slick with how much she wanted him. She gasped when he found the little pearl of flesh and nerves, her hands pulling his hair just the littlest bit. He pushed back the need to just shed is boxers and plunge into her, and instead set himself to circling and teasing and playing with her core, watching her face as he discovered exactly where made her moan, squeal, squeeze her eyes shut, and gasp. He cataloged all of this information, pushing it to the recesses of his mind, remembering every bit of what made her want.

"_Rose,_" he said, his face in the cave of her neck, as he dipped on finger into the cave of her sex, feeling her tighten around him, feeling the flutter and pull of her walls. She forced images of what she wanted, no, _needed_ him to do, where he needed to be, and the onslaught of them almost was the Doctor's undoing.

He abandoned her, shucking his boxers, and returned, positioning himself above her entrance, holding his position as he memorized her. She whimpered and bucked her hips toward him, but her held her down, wanted to savor it all. She slowed, looking up into his nearly black eyes.

"Doctor, I need you now, please," and with that all of his resolve was gone, and pushed into her, groaning with pleasure, all the way to his hilt, all the way inside her.

"Rose, god, Rose, I love you, so so much," he said as he waited for her to adjust to the size of him.

"Doctor, I never want to be without you, not ever again," and she kissed him. Slowly, with sure movements he began to move inside of her, easing in and out, finding the perfect angle quickly. Somewhere in the back of their minds they realized that they fit together like puzzle pieces, perfect in every way. With each thrust, they both gasped, Rose finding his rhythm and meeting his every movement.

He groaned and she gasped, together they found themselves at a precipice. The Doctor kissed her, and she clawed, wanting more, more, MORE! The final thrust that pushed them over the edge was so perfect, doubled in feeling by the telepathy, and the sheer pleasure that was the two of them took them both by surprise, clutching at each other with desperate need. They cried out each other's names, not caring who heard them.

They stayed that way for a while, the Doctor on top of Rose, his weight not crushing but welcome. When he began to soften inside of her, he finally pulled out, rolling to his back, Rose and all her hair splaying out on his chest. Their breathing slowly returned to normal, neither of them moving and inch, just happy to have each other in their arms.

"That was amazing," Rose breathed, her voice so quiet if he had been breathing more heavily he wouldn't have heard her.

"Yes, it was." He assured her. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," she said, her voice now sleep-heavy. "So, so much…" And with that she fell into the heaviest and most restful sleep she'd had in almost seven years.

oOOo

The Doctor did not sleep, just reached for the sand-laden blanket Pete must have laid over them earlier, wrapping it around them, tucking Rose's hair back behind her ear. He listened to her breathing; felt her heart beat on his chest. He gripped her fingers with his own, twisting them, making them his. She was his now, he had to remind himself. She was his and would be his forevermore, he'd make sure of it. He'd missed her so much while she was lost. He had this Rose-shaped hole in his chest since she'd been ripped from the universe, across the Void, and into this strange world. He'd felt so guilty for so long.

He should have done something more, made more of an effort to keep her safe. Done something. Anything.

_No_, he thought now. _No, everything was _right _now, everything that mattered_. He had her in his arms, she was breathing, alive, unbroken. The universe had not ended. Everyone was safe, for now. And for right now, for the Doctor, that was enough.

As he looked at Rose, sleep settling over her features like a long lost friend, he thought back to his time without her. Four long years; 49 months, three weeks, and two days. Too long. He wondered how long it had been for her, and reached and touched her temple, opening her mind to him. He searched till he found it, six years. _Oh, God, Rose, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

He went to pull out of her mind, letting her sleep in peace, when something caught his attention, something that would have been hidden away deep had she been awake. His eyes shot open, hand flying away from her head like she had bit him. He looked frantically down at the girl in his arms, looking for some way it could have been a lie, a mistruth, anything other than the blatant fact that it was.

_She remembers it all,_ he thought, _all of it._ The Vortex, the spinning time and space in her head. _It was impossible. How could she be… How could she be living, breathing, so full of life? Impossible!_ The Doctor couldn't wrap his mind around it, a human, (and she was very much human) a human could NOT withstand such a force as the Vortex in her head, running through her veins. Donna, the beautiful Donna Noble, so spunky and chavish, she couldn't do it. He'd had to wipe her mind completely free of him, so she wouldn't burn.

How could this girl, Rose Tyler, _his_ Rose Tyler, be so special she could remember all of the whole universe, see it swirling in her eyes, feeling it like fire through her veins, and she was still living? He stopped balking long enough to search the rest of her mind for what was making her so special. Rose thought it was the alternate universe, and he supposed she could have been right, but never having tested it, she could never be sure. Three hours in the other universe, her native one was not enough to have performed any sort of test… _Three hours…_

The Doctor's eyes widened. He had never been able to figure out why she had been ripped from him then. It must have been the TARDIS, she must have known what was happening to Rose, what would have happened had she stayed any longer: she would have burned up.

Suddenly the Doctor had never been more grateful for the stolen TARDIS, for she had saved his Rose, his sweet, pink and yellow Rose. Rose thought it was the cannon, he could see in her mind how angry she was that it wouldn't work, her exasperation with the plans and machinery, the schematics that she pored over night after night, trying to get back, trying to get to… _Me._

The Doctor sucked in a breath when this revelation was made. _She wasn't trying to save the world, the universe, both universes… She was trying to get back to me. Well, she was trying to do both, but she was so intent on seeing me, even before the stars began going out..._ Tears sprang forth and the Doctor hastily wiped them away. Now that he thought about it, it was really no surprise. He sees it now as if he had seen it all along: she had loved him for some time now. He was so sure it had been a lop-sided love, a childish infatuation that he had with her. A plaything, someone he could show galaxies and timelines that would bring glory to him, make her marvel at him. But now that he can see all of it, he sees her love grow from awe into admiration, admiration into a sheepish love, and from there into what she had for him now: a heart-wrenchingly steadfast love, spanning centuries and universes.

He didn't wipe the tears from his eyes this time. He let them fall and fall and fall, holding his Rose to him with all of the energy that was left in his body.

He slept then, too. Deep and restful, dreaming in colors, all pink and yellow, and TARDIS blue.


End file.
